Est Est Est, Part 2 of 2

"Just take this chalk," (so went his talk, to servants sent before): "And do not balk. When you uncork good liquor, mark the door." This way, the churchman planned to pass, when pausing for a rest, fun nights in vino veritas, partaking of the best. "So, sup the wine, and if it's fine, write on the lintel (lest I miss the sign and fail to dine there) 'Vinum Bonum Est!'" Off went the servant at a trot. Would we were in his shoes! To earn our pay, we play the sot, by "testing" all the booze! From bar to bar, he wanders far, obeying that behest: but "Vinum Bonum" starts to jar: He shortens it to "Est"! He sips this wine, he guzzles that, and if he is impressed, he makes a holy concordat, and marks the doorway, "Est!" Down through the Alps the servant wends, to tread Italian soil: so many blends, to greet as friends! Unto his task, stays loyal. Both white and red, their bottles bled, are flowing like the Arno: by destiny, the servant's led to Montepulciano! Volcanic slopes (some are the Pope's!) make wine that's heaven-blessed: and, titillated as he topes, he chalks up, "Est! Est! Est!" Some days elapse -- a week, perhaps. Beneath the tavern's eaves, round Bishop wraps the sweetest of traps -- he arrives, but never leaves! The wine is fine -- almost divine -- Soft, like an angel's breath; To toe the line, he's disinclined -- and drinks himself to death! And though this tale's beyond the pale, a moral you may wrest -- each holy grail's adorned with nails -- go slow with Est! Est! Est!